Blue Butterfly
by storywritersrock
Summary: After a young woman is taken hostage for her Mutant abilities, it's up to Steve Rogers to save her from life as a prisoner. Together, they will fight for their freedom and learn the truth behind their secret desires.
1. Prologue

Blue Butterfly

Prologue

Humanity is cursed by many things. Anger, depression, self-doubt, risk. There's a brilliantly lit beacon in humanity's center called hope. Some say it's the one thing that can guide us from the darkness we encase ourselves in. Others disagree. Reign disagrees. Sometimes, hope just…dies.

 **2012**

 **New York City, Queens**

It was a damp Thursday evening and Reign was seated in her usual situation at the garden table in the kitchen, nursing a mug of something dark and bitter. The apartment smelled of dirty leather and burnt popcorn. She'd gotten used to the odor by now and was able to concentrate on the history book set in front of her. She had an assignment due the next day and was determined to receive a decent grade.

Reign was clever. She followed the rules - when she could - and she stayed out of trouble. For the most part. It wasn't easy growing up in a life where she was expected to be the adult. When opportunity knocked, she often had to close the door and attach a _come back later_ sign. It wasn't easy, but she got by. Life was life and sometimes you just have to roll with the punches.

Just as she removed a highlighter from her pencil pouch there was a sudden sound of obnoxious laughter and a couple of robust thumps against the front door. Reign ignored the disturbance, but her heart dropped below her stomach. She knew what was coming.

"I told you, no," came a voice, followed by a flirtatious giggle, "My husband will be home soon."

Reign rolled her eyes at the lie.

"Oh, come on, give me an hour. I'll pay for it."

"Night Romeo," Veronica said before slamming the door with a satisfied sigh.

Reign could hear her mother stagger down the short, narrow hall obviously tipsy. She tried to stay focused on the words on the page, but they'd somehow shifted to alphabet soup in her mind and she couldn't make out a coherent word.

"Out of beer already? You been stealin' my stash?" Veronica's voice hit an octave as she slammed the door closed to the near-empty refrigerator.

Reign raised her gaze to meet her mothers.

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

"Don't take that tone with me," she said, jabbing her pointer finger in Reign's direction, "The only thing I've had enough of is your attitude."

Biting her tongue, Reign returned to her book, seeing through the pages. She remained stiffened in her position until she could hear the opening of Wheel of Fortune coming from the TV in the conjoined living room. She knew her mother wouldn't last much longer, and she'd be out like a light within a few commercial breaks. The prospect brought Reign relief.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet event, as usual. Reign ate the remnants of stale fruity pebbles dry out of a cup, they were out of milk, and her mother was passed out on the couch. A typical Thursday night. It was near two in the early morning when she finally finished her project, stapled the corner, and shoved the items back into her ratted bag. Rats had literally chewed holes through the fabric.

The faint snore from the living room guaranteed her mother wouldn't be waking any time soon and that meant Reign could stash away her spoils of the day. Since the moment she'd turned fifteen, every day after school and most weekends she worked as a waitress in a nearby pizza place. The tips she made she kept safe, in other words, hidden from her mother.

Behind the shabby coffee maker was a loose tile just as dull blue and inconspicuous as the others. Using her fingernail, she pulled the piece off and set it gingerly on the counter before shimmying the brick behind it out. It had taken her ages to hollow it out enough to hold what she needed, but it was the perfect place to keep the money she'd been collecting secure.

She'd given some thought to what she would do with the money after she'd turn eighteen. She could put it into an apartment in the city and get away from her mother, or maybe purchase a car that could take her out of the city altogether. Start fresh somewhere else. A place on the countryside where she'd breathe in the scent of strawberries and linen from the backyard. She'd have her own garden and clothes drying in the breeze on the line. The thought made her smile. It quickly faded, and her heart dropped.

"No…" she murmured to herself, staring blankly at the empty space she'd crammed her bills into just the other night. It was like she was standing in a freezing rain, her body losing heat and becoming numb. Her cold gaze shifted to the lying form on the couch.

Reign was suddenly furious, unable to contain her rising anger. She couldn't think as she acted on pure adrenaline. She strode into the living room and slammed the brick down on the side table.

"Where is it! What did you do!" she demanded of her mother, who woke startled and sat up bleary-eyed on the couch.

"What?" she asked, hazed with drunken sleep and confusion.

Reign grabbed the brick and held it up, speaking in a dangerously slow voice "Where is it…" She could see the glimpse of comprehension in her mothers' eyes.

Veronica hesitated before speaking. "I needed the money."

"For what? Booze? Drugs? What!" Her head and heart swirled with mixed emotions of despair and hate. It was enough to make her dizzy with grief.

"I am your mother and you won't talk to me like that. I provide for you…"

Reign cut her off. She no longer held her tongue.

"Provide for me? You provide nothing!" she practically screeched, passion straining her voice.

Her mother was a stumbling mess as she got off the couch and grabbed her purse, making her way for the door. "I don't gotta to listen to this. I'm leavin'."

Fighting the tears that stung her eyes Reign wanted nothing more than to cry out. Not because her mother was leaving, again. And not because the money was gone, but because for the first time she truly felt hopeless. Two years of savings gone in one night.

"I wish you never come back" Reign retorted through a tight throat. She watched the door slam and listened as her mothers' footsteps faded away.

Reign received her wish.


	2. A Hard Day's Work

Blue Butterfly

Chapter One

A Hard Days Work

 **2014**

 **New York City, Brooklyn**

The day had only just begun, and Reign Mazarine already felt winded. The fast-paced atmosphere of New York City was not for the faint of heart and she constantly felt behind time. She liked to accuse late-night television for keeping her up, but that was misplaced blame. Truthfully, she felt agitated, as if in a moment of uncertainty everything she fought so hard to keep buried would crash down in a suffocating weight.

She felt this tension as she scrambled through the back door of her workplace and into the empty employee lounge. The Quarts clock mounted on the wall was only a few minutes away from striking 8 o'clock, the start of her shift.

It was a small lounge, one with a simple, outdated kitchenette that held a round table in the center. In the corner the flat-screen played the news -nobody ever paid attention to it- and off to the side stood a door that leads to a similarly outdated two-person bathroom. It wasn't much, but it was comfortable enough that Reign didn't feel smothered.

With haste, she entered the grungy white tiled bathroom and stood in front of the sink. Reaching forward she turned on the faucet to wet her hands and pulled her long dark hair up into a ponytail. It was high and tight and would surely give her a headache by the end of the day.

Reign adjusted her blue blazer and stole a moment to stare at her reflection. She could be pretty, she supposed, if not for her placid pale skin and the deep bags resting under her eyes. Truthfully, it was her eyes she felt most confident with. Laid with silver and flecked with blue, they could all but sparkle in the right lighting. Not that she'd ever given a man the chance to notice her or her eyes. It was clear to say she wasn't a typical nineteen-year-old.

She heaved a heavy sigh and walked back into the longue where she poured herself a large mug of bitter coffee. Two-minutes left, she thought as she swallowed the contents in a few swift gulps. It was unfortunate they were no longer allowed beverages in their stations, meaning her breaks were strictly dedicated to getting a caffeine buzz.

One-minute left. Reign clipped on her name badge, walked out of the longue and into her small computer station where she worked as a DMV Clerk. All day long, six days a week she renewed Drivers License's and took pictures of strangers who, often, thought they were entitled to excellent customer service while offering rude commentary themselves. It was a vicious cycle of bad attitude with zero winners in the end. Reign tried to keep a smile through the day, but as anyone would guess a forever friendly demeanor is not always a simple task.

As per-usual, Reign had skipped breakfast and the Slim Jim's she kept hidden under her desk were horribly tempting. Just get through until lunch, she thought as she ignored her gnawing stomach and called the next number that flashed on her screen.

Customer after customer, annoying flirtation after flirtation, she felt the day drag on forever. Many people in the area didn't understand decent hygiene or common courtesy. Was it so wrong for Reign to want to keep to herself after a long day of dealing with bad-mannered people? No, she was sure it wasn't

Reign called another number, having already lost hope that her shift would improve. Although, she'd been wrong before, and she was suddenly very glad she was wrong. He took a seat across from her and the moment he did her heart dropped. He had to be a simple look alike, right? Of course, it wasn't actually…her thought paused as he slid his ID across the counter. The name on the card read **Steven G. Rogers** and his date of birth, **1918**.

Swallowing to regain her voice she offered a smile "We don't see this date very often."

His lips curved into a charming crooked smile, his eyes a calming blue. "I guess you could say I'm a special case."

"Incredibly special…" she said immediately. Her smile fell as she realized how completely awkward that sounded "I mean…" she cleared her throat, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. "How may I help you?"

"I would like a Driver's License," he answered politely, eyes studying her for a long moment. She suddenly desperately hoped she didn't have leftover toothpaste clinging to the corner of her mouth from this morning. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable," he adjusted his seating position, "You just seem somewhat young to be working here."

Reign felt relief, at least that was something she could answer, considering the topic been brought up every day for a little over a year now. "I was able to apply at eighteen," she said with a nod, opening her filing drawer from underneath and pulled out three sheets of paper "I need you to fill out this information, please."

"Absolutely," he said as he drummed his fingers against the counter and picked up a pen from her holder. He didn't seem agitated, but while her gaze was set on the screen she could feel his eyes shift up from the paper to glimpse her. "I don't mean to pry. I think it's great. It's nice to see someone younger taking on this kind of role. Working for the government, I mean."

She cast a sideways glance at him, biting her lip to refrain from smiling. "Alright, let me ask you something. Why would Steve Rogers need a license to drive? I mean, you should be able to do whatever you want, right?"

"I'm not above the law," he said, nothing her name badge, "And besides, it's something relatively normal I can do, Reign…that's an interesting name. What does it mean?"

Nobody had ever asked her that before and she had to think for a moment before answering. "Uhm, I think it means _to rule_."

Steve flashed another horribly charming smile before returning to filling out the paper work. All while he was busy, Reign felt safe enough to study him. Taking in his features and wondering just how deep those blue eyes were. Her eyes then drew to the black cap on his head.

"Does that hat actually keep people from recognizing you?" she asked before she could stop herself, but truly she didn't regret it, she was curious.

Another crooked smile "Mostly, but not always."

"Do you like it when you're noticed?"

Their eyes met, trapping her in his gaze "I've never really been one to want my own parade…"

"Oh, that's right," she said with a hint of playfulness, "You're not Tony Stark, are you?"

"No, I am not," he said with a light laugh and shook his head.

After his paperwork was in order and all signatures were signed, she went through the procedure. Asking him all mandatory questions and eventually snapped his picture. He even took a good drivers license picture, which was an obvious sign of perfection in her book.

"Your license will be mailed to you in eight to ten business days," Reign said, feeling slightly dismayed in the thought of him leaving. It wasn't every day she met someone like him. The kind of person she always looked up to but knew she could never become.

Steve offered another warm smile "It was nice meeting you, Reign…" he said, before turning to leave. She watched him walk away, glancing over his shoulder once more, before leaving the building.

Get on with the day, Reign. Focus. "Number 67" she called, trying to clear her thoughts. At least tonight she'd have something nice to dream about. "Number 67?" she asked again, looking around the barrier to see if anyone was walking up the line.

Just as she was leaning forward, someone sat down. He was a large man with a tall frame, broad shoulders, and a thick beard that hid a partial scar extending from his brow to what she assumed his chin. He was a frightening man, to Reign anyway. It wasn't necessarily his appearance that made her uneasy, it was the way he looked at her. As if she were a piece of meat on display at the butcher shop.

"How may I help you?" she asked, keeping her voice steady. There was no need to be afraid, she thought as she met his stare.

"Keep your hands above the desk and say nothing," the man said in a low, threatening voice that resembled a rumble of thunder.

Reign blinked, confused. She parted her lips to ask what he meant, but he simply shook his head, offered a wicked grin and placed his finger to his lips. "Shh," he murmured, glancing around the room at the other clerks and customers, "We wouldn't want anyone to get hurt, would we?" his smile widened.

A cold sweat formed on the back of her neck and she could feel her fingers begin to tremble. To keep her hands above the desk meant she couldn't press for her call button to alert the authorities there was something going wrong. Dangerously wrong.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked, his eyes were as black as a coal and shifted like a snake's.

Reign shook her head.

"My name isn't important to you," he said, reaching into his coat pocket and withdrawing a strange object she didn't recognize, "This device identifies cerebral output waves along certain genetically common frequencies…in other words, it detects Mutants. Freaks. Abominations. Whatever term you prefer" his wolfish grin broadened.

Her blood ran cold as she eyed the device. It suddenly felt horribly hard to breathe, as if her chest might suddenly cave in under the pressure.

"Funny story," he continued, "I came in here with the intention of purchasing a title for my new boat, and this thing just starts going crazy," he gave a hearty laugh, "And I thought to myself…what luck."

"Please…" Reign began, she wasn't above begging for her life, especially at the hands of a man like this. She knew what she was, she lived with the weight of it every day, and every day she fought to see herself for something more than a Mutant. She had to be something more.

"Ah ah ah," he held up a meaty finger, "Remember the rule. No talking…" he leaned forward, his breath reeked of stale beer, "It's near noon and you're going to take your lunch break. We wouldn't want to make a fuss, would we? After all, there are children present…"

Closing her eyes, she knew what she had to do. Her life didn't have more value than the lives in this room. Her eyes opened again and caught sight of a mother with her two children by her side and one on the way.

"Log off" he demanded quietly.

Complying, she logged out of her computer and set her _station closed_ sign on the counter, eyes refusing to leave him.

"Go to the break room and out the back door," he smirked, "And if I were you, I wouldn't risk something stupid." He finished before turning from her counter and casually walking toward the door, attention locked on her. She wouldn't have a chance to hit the silent buzzer.

 _Move_ , Reign ordered herself. Sometimes risks were worth taking. She strode back into the lounge, closed the door firmly behind her and began looking through the cabinets for anything she could use to defend herself. The only item suitable was a fork, fantastic.

She could at least leave her purse here, raise some suspicion as to where the owner might have went. Although, she had a feeling it might not matter. Within 24 hours she'd likely be dead. She was running out of time, he'd be almost around the back entrance by now. In the chance of fight or flight, she knew where she might stand a micro of a chance.

Taking a quick breath of courage, and stuffing the fork to her waist band, she burst through the back door and took off in a dead sprint, unbuttoning her blazer as she went and abandoning it in the dirty alley. She was suddenly very grateful at her refusal to wear heels to work.

Left turn, right turn, left. She continued this pattern for a block and a half, thinking herself clever. She could do this, she could escape. That thought remained until she heard the roar of a motorcycle behind her. Slanting over her shoulder, she saw him, hunched over the handle bars with a murderous scowl on his features. He was gaining on her quickly and she didn't have another escape route set in mind.

She turned right down a random alley, her breathing wild, but that wasn't what made her heart stop. A dead end. She barely stopped in time to keep herself from smashing into the brick wall. She could feel the light of the motorcycle head beam on her back. Fight or flight, Reign. Fight or flight? Flight.

She hoisted herself up onto a commercial dumpster and jumped, grabbing hold of the emergency ladder that was readily bolted into the wall itself. Using as much strength she could gather, she climbed her way up the ladder and to the edge of the flat roof. Because that was such a wonderful place to escape. _Brilliant, Reign, you're on a roof with a Mutant hunter behind you and all you have to defend yourself with is a fork_.

Reign looked around, listening to the sound of the hunter scrambling onto the dumpster. Ahead was another roof roughly the same height but judging from the distance between she knew it was a jump she wouldn't make. So, the choice was this. Wait and let this man take her away God knows where or attempt a fatal jump. Or she could…Reign quickly shook her head to dismiss the thought. No, she swore she would never attempt it again.

"Nowhere to run," his booming voice made her chest cavity quiver, "You can come with me now or I can shoot you and get this over with."

Pursing her lips into a tight line she judged her options. Did it matter what she chose? Wouldn't both endings lead to her untimely death? Some Mutant she was, she couldn't protect herself even in the direst situation.

Unfortunately, she didn't have time to consider. Suddenly, his large calloused hands were on her shoulders, dragging her back across the roof, sending flying gravel in every direction. This time she screamed for help at the top of her lungs, but his hand quickly covered her mouth, silencing her.

It was a fight she wouldn't win, but she continued to thrash and pivot as he brought her from the roof and down the alleyway. She stopped fighting suddenly, feeling the nose of a pistol in the spine of her back. Hot tears of defeat streamed down her cheeks as they pursued further, approaching an inconspicuous Taxi Cab at the end of the alley.

The sight of her essential coffin sent a jolt of adrenaline through her aching body, and without another instant's hesitation, Reign removed the metal fork that had been hiding in her waist band and shifted, stabbing the thing into the side of his neck, putting as much force behind the blow as possible. She heard him yelp in pain and lurched forward, screaming as she did.

"Help!" she shrieked, and even louder a second time, "Help!"

The sound of a gun went off.

Reign's ears were suddenly ringing. She noticed the blood on her shirt before she felt the effects, but when she did the agonizing pain sent her to her knees where she then collapsed onto the pavement. Her damp cheek pressed against the grainy asphalt. She could feel herself being lifted. By air? No, it was him, the hunter, setting her in the trunk of the taxi. Before he closed the trunk, she could hear another voice echo in the near distance.

"Hey! Hey!" It shouted out in vile desperation. That voice, she knew that voice. All sound was cut off completely as the trunk slammed closed. She was met with the darkness of the inner cab, fighting for each breath before slipping into something much deeper. Something Reign wasn't sure she'd ever wake up from.


	3. Inescapable Bondage

Blue Butterfly

Chapter Two

 **Inescapable Bondage**

Dreams. They were often thought of as vague imagery that depicted true thoughts and ideas of one's subconscious. Was that what this was, a dream?

 _This certainly didn't seem real_ , she thought, as her eyes fluttered open.

The blurred faces hovering above were nothing but simple, yet terrifying, fabrications of her own nightmares That metallic taste of blood coating her tongue was of pure imagination and Reign was convinced she would close and open her eyes at any moment and find herself in her mediocre apartment in Brooklyn.

She would be greeted with the water leak stain from above and the sound of the washer on its spin cycle.

She was wrong.

The room she was in remained intact. It was clean yet reeked with a vulgar mixture of medicine and ammonia.

Then there were the voices, oh the voices, they echoed here and there sometimes shouting. Although Reign couldn't clearly make out what they were saying, she knew they were anxious about something urgent.

A sudden searing pain in her abdomen caused her to shriek.

 _This isn't a dream._

An abrupt panic swept through her system. One she couldn't control. To lie there was to accept her fate, which she couldn't do.

Not yet.

Not like this.

No matter how she struggled, she couldn't move her limbs. Was it at the fault of her weak muscles and frazzled nerves? Or was she unwillingly strapped to the frigid surgical table underneath?

The prospect no longer mattered as she watched a man tentatively place a breathing mask firmly over her mouth and nose. Her surrounding vision began to darken, she could only focus on his eyes. They were unexpectedly gentle, sorrowful in fact.

He began to count backward from ten.

"Ten…nine…eight…"

The peace she felt was almost immediate.

"Seven…six…five…"

Her fingers and toes tingled, and she had the strange sensation of being airborne.

"Four…three…two…"

The voices faded as her head filled with fluffed feathers. Was this what death felt like? If it was, perhaps it wasn't so horrible to die like this.

To die in peace.

"One…"

Darkness embraced Reign in its careful clutches.

* * *

When Reign reopened her eyes, she was greeted by a throbbing headache, a horribly sore throat, and the inability to move her arms and legs. The anxiety she felt was beginning to grow. She felt lethargic.

 _Think_ , Reign, _you aren't dead_. _Where are you?_

The fluorescent lights above weren't as blinding as they'd been before. This wasn't the same room. A recovery room, perhaps? If she were, at least it meant whatever they'd needed to put her under for was a success.

Reign was relieved to be alone, or she thought she was alone. She was quickly disproven by the sound of ruffling papers from across the room. Someone spoke, offering her relief.

It wasn't the voice she feared.

"How are you feeling?" the man asked. His voice had a pleasant tone to it, soft and warm.

The legs of his chair scraped against the floor as he scooted backward to stand. While he walked closer, she could finally see his face. His eyes were a soft brown. They matched the color she saw before slipping under anesthesia.

Reign remained silent.

Removing a small penlight from the pocket of his scrubs and flashed a painful light into her eyes.

"Good. Perfect, actually," he murmured, scratching something onto his clipboard.

Once the blurred stars in her vision disappeared, she took the time to study his features. The man was young, in his mid-thirties, with a dark buzzed hairstyle and a rich, deep bronze complexion.

A handsome man.

The young doctor appeared as someone she should trust, but if she could, wouldn't he have removed her restraints by now?

She spoke, and it came out as if she'd been gargling a box of nails, "What did you do to me?"

His brows knitted together. "I'd like to say I saved your life, but if you're here, it wasn't much of a gift."

"Here?"

"I was trying to repair the damage done by a bullet. You had already lost so much blood and it wasn't stopping," he paused, "How much do you remember of the incident?" He asked as he began checking her remaining vitals.

She was suddenly very aware she was in only a patient gown. She wished she could have pulled the fabric further down to cover her naked legs.

"I remember...I was running. Just…running and…a voice."

The voice she heard before the trunk slammed shut. Whose was it?

"… _Steve_."

"Who's Steve?" He asked, his eyes filled with a confused curiosity.

A well of emotion filled her chest as the still crisp image of his face entered the forefront of her thoughts. The attentive kindness in his voice had left her feeling, well, significant. It was something more than butterflies in her stomach.

"I don't think it matters anymore," she mumbled.

It wasn't like she'd ever see him again.

She felt the cool, smooth texture of his latex gloves against her ankle as the good doctor unfastened her restraints, one by one, letting them fall away. He very carefully adjusted the hospital bed, sitting her up at a Fowler's position. Much to Reign's surprise.

Offering a small smile, he said, "I see no need for restraints, but I do recommend staying in bed. You need the time to heal."

"Heal, right. Once I heal what will happen to me?"

His dark features set into an apprehensive scowl, and she knew it was an answer she wasn't ready to hear. The image of dirty cells and steel bars entered her mind as she tried to envision the prison she was about to enter.

"You'll stay here for as long as I can keep you." That was the only detail he gave, and she wasn't sure if it was more frightening than if he'd told her what to expect.

"That's comforting." At least she knew she was still capable of sarcasm. Even if it was scarce.

Reign could now see her surroundings in detail and was correct in her assumption it was some form of a recovery room. It was small, bluish in color, and dimmed. A relaxed setting. White cabinets, which she assumed were filled with various medical supplies, hung on the wall just above a spotless counter with one sink. Aside from her bed, the cardiac monitor, and an IV pole the room itself was impeccably neat without a fleck of rust to be seen.

It wasn't what she'd expected.

"Where am I exactly?" She asked, looking over to see he was writing down her BPM rate on his clipboard.

Glancing up, he pursed his lips into a thin line. "I'm afraid that's classified information."

"Classified? Is your name classified too?"

"No," he broke a smile, "My name is Dr. Thompson, but you can call me Noah if you'd like."

Reign nodded. "Alright, Noah. You aren't like the man who chased me through the city. Why are you working for people like him?"

"Let's just say I'm not like them…"

Reading between the lines, Reign had an assumption of what he meant by that. "Are you a Mutant?"

"I'm afraid I've been told not to answer that question from the patients here. Although, I can neither confirm…nor deny."

A sudden thought crossed her mind. Were they watching them? Listening to their every word? If they were, it made sense why he was so hesitant to surrender information. If he was a Mutant, then he was just as much a prisoner here as she was.

A prisoner with a medical degree and a purpose.

"I think I understand," she finally responded, "I'll keep my questions to a minimum."

Noah's lips curved into another smile. "Thank you." He cleared his throat, finished what he was writing and set it aside. "Now, let's check on those stitches."

He calmly approached her bedside. With his long fingers, he carefully lifted her gown. Aware she wore only her undergarments beneath, Reign panicked and reached to stop his hand.

Heat flared in her cheeks, consuming her face and burning her ears, but she was grateful for his pause. It gave her a moment to ease into the concept of being touched.

After a tense moment passed, he cautiously pulled back the thin fabric of her gown, revealing the gauze bandages that hid the stitch work underneath. It was spotted with leftover blood, but from the expression on his features, she assumed everything was in working order.

"Why he felt the need to pull the trigger, I'll never understand," Noah said, removing the bandaging and replacing it with a fresh clean one.

"He's a massive douche who lacks people skills," she said bluntly, hoping her words would be recorded in the record.

Noah lightly laughed at her words. "Be careful with your words. This isn't a place where you want to make enemies. If I had any words of advice for you, when you are released, make friends. Alright?"

Reign licked her chapped lips and nodded. "Make friends. Noted."

"Try to get some rest," he said, "If you need anything, you can press the call button on the side of your bed and I'll be here. The bathroom is just through there." He gestured to an open doorway with no door that lead to darkness where she assumed a toilet was.

Noah must have noted her expression because he then mentioned, "We've had issues in the past with patients and locked doors," his face fell, "They were unfortunate circumstances."

Reign cringed inwardly and quickly stuffed the gruesome thoughts into the back cages of her mind.

Something came to her attention then. She noticed a black band wrapped around her ankle. She was almost certain it was a house arrest device, but did it serve the same purpose?

"What is that?" she asked, pointing at her ankle.

Noah followed her finger and said, "It's to suppress your abilities."

If she were being honest with herself, she hardly had abilities. She couldn't levitate objects with her mind, shoot fire from her hands, or do anything of real significance. She wasn't sure how her gift worked or how to control it.

"I think they might be wasting their time," she answered flatly.

Frowning, Noah shook his head. "Whatever you do, don't tell them that. Duds don't last long around here."

Duds? As in Mutants with unimportant abilities, she assumed. To think, going through the trauma of being captured just to be thrown down the garbage disposal because she was a Dud.

"I'll check on you in just a little while," he said, before leaving the room. She heard the lock click from the outside, and a sinking fear chilled her nerves.

Reign had once wished to be given a thrill of excitement in her life. To have the chance to reach for the stars and test her own boundaries. Was this entire experience the outcome of silly childhood wishes finally coming true in the worst way possible?

Her lips puckered as she fought sudden stinging tears. In he,r life she'd always said she felt helpless, hopeless even. She'd spent years digging through garbage cans, trying to avoid dirty needles. Years of watching her mother waste away in front of _Let's Make a Deal_ with an empty liquor bottle in her hand.

Now it was clear in the two years she'd spent working her way up from her shabby lifestyle had not been her low point.

This, this exact moment of lying in a hospital bed in the recovery room of her new prison. This was her low point. Reign knew she could either lie back and give in or she could stand and fight.

Submitting would be easy, but the fight would be worth it.

* * *

 _ **NOTES**_

 **I hope you enjoyed this second chapter! It was so much fun to write.**

 **Be sure to like and comment if you enjoyed it too!**

 **A special thanks to my beta reader FlyingRedPanda from Wattpad!**

 **I'll be posting again soon, so stay tuned!**

 **#reignandsteveforever**


	4. Number 750231

Blue Butterfly

Chapter Three

 **Number 750231**

" _Hey! Hey!"_

 _That voice. She knew that voice._

" _Hey!" The voice cut off when the trunk slammed shut but continued to echo violently inside the small space her body was crammed in._

Reign bolted upright in bed, breathing in a raspy gasp that filled her lungs to their maximum. The beads of hot sweat that clung to her forehead also drenched the back of her neck, making her feel nauseous. Why was it so hot in here? She thought as she ran her damp palms over the sheets.

Slowly, as her breathing steadied and her thoughts became clear again she could make sense of reality. She was still in her hospital bed in the dim recovery room. Nothing had changed, yet everything had.

Reign would be released into the prison that day.

Thinking back to her childhood, Reign remembered what it was like to wait for something. When she was excited, it took ages. However, when she dreaded what was to come, the time flew by in what seemed minutes. If only time would crawl as slowly as it did when she was an excited child.

From the moment Noah told her she'd be released in a weeks' time she had a sudden sinking feeling in her gut, where her heart dropped below her stomach. What type of place would she walk into today? Certainly, it wouldn't be a five-star resort.

Rusted bars, mysterious stains, and revolting stenches gripped her overexaggerated imagination while her stomach churned uncomfortably.

Pulling her legs to her chest, she rested her chin on her knees and stared at the door. Soon it would open, and she'd be taken from her mini sanctuary and parted from Noah. She'd only known him a week, yet grief sat in her chest like a heavy stone. More than likely she would never see him again. What was the last thing she'd said to him?

The loose jiggle of the door handle tore her from her thoughts before she could recall her memory. She held her breath as a chill of goosebumps prickled over her skin.

Noah's face loomed in the doorway and Reign released her breath, relieved.

"Noah," she said with a soft sigh. "You scared the…" Her eyes flitted to the dark blue item folded neatly in his arm. "What's that?"

"Your new uniform." He said, unfolding the fabric. He held it up, revealing the one-piece jumpsuit. His playful eyes danced as he added, "I didn't wrap it. Sorry."

Smiling at the tease in his tone, Reign eased her legs over the side of the bed and placed her bare feet against the cold floor. She'd been denied a pair of socks her second night.

Fearing she might tug at the stitches in her stomach, Reign stood cautiously. She would no doubt have a residual scar. Turning her eyes on the jumper, she crossed the room and held her hands out, taking the article from him.

Knitting her brows together she traced a careful finger along a sloppy white stitch mark. " **750231** ," she glanced up at him, "That's me?"

His eyes lost their playfulness, responding with a simple nod.

"Meaning," she licked her chapped lips, "I'm just a number here."

Reign didn't have to glimpse up again, she knew what expression he held. "Makes sense, I guess," she said through a cotton dry voice. "Is this my parting gift?"

Peering up at him through bleary eyes she studied his face. She'd keep his soft smile and curved brow locked away into her memory for future use. On nights she couldn't sleep she'd be able to pull out the memory like a comforting picture.

She managed to force a small smile, "Not even a hug?"

Noah gave a crooked smile, "Of course."

Managing a shaky laugh, he pulled her into a warm embrace. One that Reign didn't hesitate to return. He was a couple of inches taller, leading her to stand on the tips of her toes so she could press her forehead against his shoulder. With her arms wrapped around his neck, she let out a soft sigh. Allowing the moment to wash a wave of comfort over her.

Something in the air between them drastically changed.

Noah's grip unexpectedly locked and became a vice around her waist. She froze. Chills of fear and adrenaline swept through her body and over her skin as if she'd been dunked into an ice bath.

Reign gritted her teeth, " _Noah…"_

He leaned his lips close to her ear and spoke in a low, frightening voice. One she'd never heard him use before. "You'll know when to use it."

These were the last words Noah uttered before the door opened and _he_ walked in. The sound of her quickening heart rate thudded dramatically against her eardrum as she met the hunter's annoyed stare

 _No, Reign. Don't let him see fear_. Although, that was increasingly difficult when Noah stepped aside, the jumpsuit now in her arms, and that hulking man stepped forward. He toward over her. His solid form and intimidating gaze made her want to creep back into bed. Instead, she squared her shoulders and looked up.

"Get dressed." His deep, demanding voice all but shook her bones. Reign folded her hands to stop them from trembling.

Obediently, she disappeared into the bathroom, sure to keep the lights turned off. The last thing she wanted was for him to get off from the damage he'd done.

Huffing a soft sigh, she stripped her gown off and exchanged it for the dark blue jumper. Tugging her arms and legs through the openings with exaggerated sluggishness. _At least it wasn't orange,_ she thought as she reached her hands into the pockets to see how much room she had.

 _Odd_.

At the bottom of her left pocket, her fingers grazed over something sleek and in the shape of a cylinder. She nearly pulled the object out to examine, but then thought better. If she had anything she wasn't supposed to have, it was best to keep it a secret. Whatever the thing was, she was keeping it.

Appearing from the bathroom, she slipped into a pair of navy canvas slip-ons provided to her and adjusted the black band around her ankle. It rubbed uncomfortably against her skin.

"Let's go," the Hunter said.

What was his name? Not that it mattered, she didn't particularly want to be on a first name basis with the bear of a man who shot her out of pure spite.

Casting one more miserable glance in Noah's direction, she moved forward. Their last exchange had been so awkward and confusing. She didn't want to leave him like that, but she didn't have a choice.

The Hunter walked ahead, leading her from the recovery room and down a hall that gradually narrowed, shifting from the familiar dull blue and into a despairing gray.

It was a strange transition, but an obvious one as they descended two flights of steel grate stairs. From here, Reign could see the layout of the prison. The grim images she'd had before quickly dissolved.

Each cell appeared to be six feet by eight feet in dimension, constructed of glass, and in the shape of a hexagon. They connected in long rows, sharing two sides with walkways on either side that lead to two massive doorways.

Where did they lead to?

As she passed the cells a twinge of uncertainty fueled her fear. The inmates, diverse by race and gender, greeted her differently. Some remained motionless, staring blankly ahead. Others slowly stood, sizing her up in the effort to intimidate her.

She swallowed dryly, stopping when he did.

"Get in," the Hunter said flatly, pushing the glass door open.

Her cell was identical to all the others. The grated floor, one stiff cot that held a pillow and a thin blanket, and a single steel toilet with one roll of toilet paper next to it.

"Cozy _and_ private. I like it." Her tone dripped sarcasm as she stepped inside. The door behind her slid shut, clicking as it locked.

" _Freak_."

She was frozen in her stature, only moving when she could hear heavy boots on the stairs not far away. The sounds brought relief, yet Reign slumped, as if a sudden weight had been set on her shoulders.

With a heavy sigh, she shuffled across the small space and carefully sat on the bed. She took the crumpled blanket in her hands and laid it across her lap. Scrunching the fabric in her fingers, she tried to soothe her frayed nerves.

Reign could sit on this cot and wallow. Ask the universe - why did this happen?

She could throw a fit, tear her hair out and slam her fist against the glass of her cell.

But what good would that do her? They would consider her insane and be discarded as a _dud_. To the people here she was no longer Reign Mazarine. She wasn't a person, she was a number.

Number 750231, to be exact.

It was a horrifying fact she refused to come to terms with. _No, not yet._

"It's not so bad." A voice arose, higher and friendlier in tone than Reign would have imagined.

Glancing up, she met brilliant emerald eyes framed by a thin, pale face sprinkled with freckles. She had shimmering blonde hair that reached just above her tailbone. She was gorgeous by anyone's standards.

"What?" Reign asked when she regained her thoughts.

The blonde girl smiled sympathetically, "Being here, I mean. It seems horrible at first, but it's not so bad once you learn the rules."

Reign knitted her eyebrows together. "Rules?"

Nodding her head, she moved herself closer. She was sat on the floor, legs extended, and knees bent, the souls of her feet were touching together. "There are rules here. Especially for newcomers."

Squeezing the blanket in her hands, Reign began to move closer until she as well was sitting on the floor. The only thing separating them now was the two inches of metallic glass. Play it smart and make friends. That had been Noah's advice when they first met. So that's what she'd do.

"What are these rules?"

"Well," the blonde began in a lower voice, "I've been here for a little over a month now, and what I've seen is making eye contact with anyone bigger than you is a definite no go. It's best to just keep your head down. Nobody messes with someone they don't see as a threat."

"I'll take that into consideration…" Reign pursed her lips into a thin line. "What other rules are there?"

"It's best to be last in the lunch line. The smaller ones here get the leftovers, but that means nobody fights you for it since it's the least of what everyone wants. Same goes for shower time. If you're the last one to go…"

"Nobody fights for it. Got it." Reign ran her fingers through her dark, wavy hair. When was the last time she'd washed it? Her grungy tub suddenly seemed very appealing.

"You can bet for a hair tie, you know."

Confused, Reign looked at her with a tilt of her head, "Bet?"

The girl nodded, glanced around, and then moved back to her cot where she withdrew a paper bag from underneath. She crawled back over and opened the bag, showing the contents. Inside there was nothing except for thin white chips the size of a dollar coin.

"What are they for?" she asked, leaning closer.

"Good behavior. Some of the guards really aren't bad and if they see you behaving they'll give you tokens," she continued, obviously excited by the amount she'd collected, "You can exchange them for an extra shower or another serving of food or even time outside."

Reign gave a slow nod. "You said I could bet them? What like, poker?"

"Poker, Black Jack, Rummy. Really any card game," she paused, "They used to bet with Darts until there was an incident." She cringed at the memory. "I never bet though. I don't have much of a poker face, and betting guarantees the bigger inmates to notice you."

Reign bit her lip, stifling a laugh. "What's your name?"

"Stella, but you can call me Ella," she smiled gently, "What's yours?"

"Reign…It's nice to meet you."

Ella laughed and nodded, "An unfortunate circumstance, but yes, it's nice to meet you too."

"Tell me something, Ella…" Reign started, meeting the other's curious gaze.

"What?"

"Who exactly is the leader in here?"

Ella gave her an incredulous look. "You'll know when you see him, but it's not him you have to worry about."

Reign's eyes narrowed. "Why's that?"

"Eve is the one to avoid. She isn't just capable of taking someone on. She seeks them out. She's the one to not make eye contact with. If she sees you as something that might take her place on top, you'll be right back in the hospital wing," she must have read Reign's look of odd approval, because she then added, "Don't think of that as a good thing. Most of the people who get sent to the hospital wing by her don't come back."

"Oh, come on, Ella," Reign said, irritation singed her voice, "Everybody has some sort of a weak point. What's Eve's?"

"Holy Water, maybe," Ella suggested.

Reign licked her lips, withholding another laugh. "Is she really that bad?"

"Just wait until noon. You'll see what I mean."

With another huffed sigh, Reign leaned her shoulder against the glass. She was terrified to enter the cafeteria, yet strangely excited. Would she find that Ella had simply exaggerated? Or would she be greeted with havoc and be forced to keep her head low? Either way, she thought as her stomach began to gnaw, noon couldn't come soon enough.

Reaching into her pocket, Reign gripped the device she'd found earlier. Was it mere coincidence that she found it in her pocket or had Noah planted it there purposefully? Perhaps all inmates had a similar device. At any rate, his words were seared into her thoughts.

 _You'll know when to use it._

The question of what it was, was a mystery. An explosive? As that thought entered her mind she quickly released the device, terrified she might set it off. If it was some sort of detonator, Reign wasn't positive she could go through with wasting the entire place, herself and Ella included.

No, there had to be another way, and if there wasn't, she'd make another way.


End file.
